Chapter Ten #2
“She’ll be gone soon.”
“And that’s what’s eating at you, right?”
Kirk looked at the older man, then sighed and nodded.
“She’s a looker and has a sweet disposition. Reminds me a bit of your grandma when she was young and sassy. I did that all wrong. Regretted it all these years,” Hiram said slowly.
Kirk was staggered. His grandfather never spoke of his wife. Kirk had never heard him say he regretted things—or that he might be at fault.
“Devon men just can’t keep their women,” Kirk said.
“If I’d treated her better, she might have stayed. Not so with your mother, I don’t think. Your dad did all he could for her—she flat-out didn’t want to stay in Smoky Hollow.”
“Like Alice.”
“Yes, but that gal was restless from the get-go. Think back, all through high school she talked of going someplace else.”
“So did I. And I went. Found I like this place best.”
“Alice needed that chance. Only when she took it, she didn’t like Smoky Hollow best. You don’t have to stay here, Kirk. You’re young, you can do your wood sculptures anywhere, work construction anywhere like you did before. If there’s something sizzling between you and Angelica, don’t let it go.”
“I’ve never heard you talk like this,” Kirk said.
“A man gets to being old and alone and thinks back to how he might have changed things in the past.”
“I don’t see as how I’d change anything,” Kirk said.
“I do. A whole lot. And maybe your dad would be alive today, and maybe I’d have had a house full of young’uns. Can’t change it now, of course. But don’t you make my mistakes. Go after what you want. And make sure anything holding you back is real and not pride or false values. You hear me?”
Kirk nodded.
“We’ll see,” he said.
He didn’t like the way the conversation was going so he changed the topic to farm matters. Easier to deal with his grandfather on routine matters. Just before he was set to leave, Hiram looked at him.
“Have you heard from Webb Francis?”
“Yeah, the other day. He’s doing better. Plans to be at the festival. Front row seat, he says.”
“Is he going to play?”
“Not this year, but he’s anticipating hearing Angelica. He wondered if she’d do a classical piece as well. That’s what she plays in New York.”
“I asked her. She is,” Hiram said.
“Be something to hear, I expect.”
He just hoped he could.
Kirk went to the library after leaving the farm, to use the Internet.
He searched on Angelica’s name and was surprised to find how many references he found.
Reading through the first dozen or so, he realized how valuable a member she was of the philharmonic—a true rising star.
The accolades were heartfelt. The fame of his young neighbor apparently was well established in the music community of New York and parts of Europe.
The last bit of wishful hope that she’d consider staying in Smoky Hollow died.
And he’d be doing her and the music world a disservice to even ask her to stay. She had a bright future. This visit was a short stretch out of time.
He should make the most of it instead of ignoring what was right in front of him. There were two weeks left before the festival. Once that was past, she’d be gone. Could he deal with fourteen days of Angelica and then let her go?
Could he regret not spending those days with her for the rest of his life?
Angelica heard the knock on the door as she was finishing making her sandwich. She went to the front door. Kirk stood there.
“Busy?” he asked.
She hadn’t seen him for a week and now he shows up as if yesterday was the last time he’d seen her.
“I’m fixing lunch.”
He stayed silent, looking at her intensely like he did. Her attraction for him had not diminished one iota during the absence. Her body seemed to sing now that he was here. His wide shoulders had her longing to reach out and drag him in. His slow smile had her insides doing flip-flops.
“Want to eat with me?” she said finally when he hadn’t broken the silence.
“Sure.”
He opened the screen door and stepped into the room. He seemed to crowd her even with a couple of feet of space between them.
Angelica spun around and hurried to the kitchen, glad for the task of making another sandwich to give her something to do.
“I’m surprised to see you,” she said as she placed the sandwiches on plates and put them on the table.
He sat and watched her.
“I’ve been working on a renovation the other side of town. And working on the carving.”
“How is that now?”
“Coming along. Want to come over and see it after lunch?”
“I could,” she said cautiously.
Once they began eating, she couldn’t let her curiosity stay quiet.
“Why are you here?”
“To see you.”
“I thought you told me to go home.”
He shrugged.
“You will after the festival. Until then, why not spend time together?”
She could think of a dozen reasons, the primary one being how she was falling in love with the man. She’d learned a lot these few weeks. She liked the people she met. She liked dealing with children. There were different ways to live from the way she lived.
Whether she’d want a permanent change was still up in the air. She didn’t dislike every part of her life in New York. Would she completely be accepted in Smoky Hollow, or was she here on sufferance because of Webb Francis and Kirk?
And in the greater scheme, hadn’t she come here to find out what a different way of life was like? How could she know if she didn’t take every opportunity offered?
Who knew? Maybe a miracle would happen and he’d fall in love with her and they’d share their lives together.
“Doing what?” she asked.
“I thought we could go into Bryceville later, have dinner at a great barbecue place I know and then see if there’s a movie in town we’d want to see.”
There was no skating around that. It was a date.
She nodded.
“So tell me, how are the kids doing with their lessons?” he asked.
They talked about Sam and Teresa Ann, moving on to the topic of Hiram’s big comeback, as Angelica called it.
“He blows me away with his voice. Age has not diminished it at all. He’ll wow the crowd.”
“Webb Francis seems to think you will.”
She shrugged.
“I’ve been practicing.”
“Pops said you’re doing a solo from one of your concerts,” he said slowly.
“And?”
She seemed defensive.
“I think we’ll be fortunate to hear you.”
She thought it over.
“Sam’s mom said the same thing.”
They’d enjoy anything she played, he thought. He would, even if he couldn’t hear it all. Watching her would be enough.
Angelica dressed with care for her date. She didn’t have much variety, but so far neither had anyone else in town shown a huge wardrobe. The pink of her cotton top enhanced the color she’d picked up from the sun, making her blue eyes look brighter. Or was it the anticipation in seeing Kirk again?
She waited on the front porch and heard the muffled roar of the motorcycle when he started it.
Smiling she waited. The things she did here would have astonished her six months ago, six weeks ago.
Now she agreed with what Kirk and Webb Francis had said that first morning—the back of a motorcycle was the best way to see things.
The ride into Bryceville was fun. She held on, savoring every movement of his body as he smoothly leaned into curves. They couldn’t talk, but she didn’t need conversation. Being with him was enough.
She was so glad he’d stopped by at lunch. Her time was winding down and decisions had to be made soon. But for today, she’d go with the flow and savor every second.
The barbecue was delicious and messy. They used a dozen napkins and she still had to stop and wash her hands before they headed for the movie theater.
The feature movie was a comedy. As they waited in line to buy their tickets, a very short line compared to the lines she’d seen in New York, she asked if he could hear film soundtracks.
“Most of it. The theater cranks up the sound pretty loud. Sometimes I miss parts. I don’t come often,” he said.
He touched her back as they moved forward, sending spiraling shivers down her spine. They found seats near the center. The theater wasn’t crowded, though the air-conditioning felt so good Angelica thought everyone around should come for the relief from the heat.
Kirk held the popcorn in his lap, near her so she could easily reach for some. The lights dimmed and the coming attractions began. Halfway through the box of popcorn, she reached in and tangled her fingers with his. Startled, she looked at him. He looked back and smiled, withdrawing his hand.
Disappointed, she took another few kernels and then whispered, “I’m finished. I can’t believe I ate anything after dinner.”
He set the box on the floor by his feet and reached for her hand as casually and confidently as if they’d held hands forever.
Angelica drew in a sharp breath, feeling every cell in her body focus on Kirk.
She couldn’t get back into the story unfolding on the screen.
She could only feel the hardness of his palm, the callouses on his fingers as they gently cradled hers.
He rested their linked hands on his thigh.
A surreptitious glance showed he was watching the movie. Didn’t he feel the charge?
Gradually her heart rate settled down and she picked up the threads of the movie, but she never grew complacent about their linked hands.
It was dark on the ride home. The air was cooler, scented with night smells.
What mysteries lurked in the darkened woods that lined the road?
Who else was out, enjoying the brilliance of the stars, the lessening of the day’s heat?
She felt magical gliding through the night with skin brushed by the air, her head dancing with fantasies.
When they reached the cottage, she climbed off the motorcycle reluctantly. She could have ridden to California and back and still not had enough.
“That was fun,” she said, walking to the door.
“You didn’t leave a light on,” he said.